Five Stages of Grief: York
by Gorton Colu
Summary: See Title
1. Stage 1

This literally began as an 500 word story. 1 chapter. And that's all I ever wanted it to be. Sucks to be me I guess.

It's the counselor who briefs them on the phrase. Right after the Director, finishes telling them, in that detached uncaring tone, that 'this project has an estimated 50% mortality rate.' Basically its a catchall for the five emotional states a person goes through when they loose someone. They might not get all five, and not always in the same order, but everyone goes through it. Everyone.

* * *

Sitting beside Caronlina's slowly dieing form, the Counselor's words were a cold comfort. A bandage on a raw wound, when all he needed was a painkiller. Looking down at her small form, _finally_ stripped of her cyan armor, James couldn't believe it. This was Carolina for fuck's sake. Nothing could stop her. Even on his best day, York hadn't had the chops to beat her. Or even keep up with her. She was a force of nature. A fury. A valkyrie. An avenging fucking angel.

_It had been a high-risk mission that quickly turned into a total clusterfuck. The team was in full retreat. He was pinned down while playing rearguard. A dozen well armed bad guys surrounded him and more were closing in. He'd choosing between burial and cremation when it happened._  
_Carolina dropped out of the sky like a meteor. He had no idea where she came from and neither did the insurrectionists. It didn't matter. She was a blur of deadly, graceful motion. She dropped a sniper with a shot from her magnum. Threw a combat knife in the eye of the big guy on her right. Executed another at point blank range. York could only stare as she sprinted full tilt into another soldier, used him as shield, then threw his body at the next shooter._

"_Fire your weapon, York!" Carolina continued her full out charge. She was heading right for him._

_York took out a baddie trying to flank on the right._

_Carolina never stopped, never even slowed down. York took off behind her, sprinting for the LZ. The entire time, he kept asking where the hell did she come from?_

It didn't seem possible to connect that beautiful, dangerous woman from his memory with the one lying before him. It didn't seem right to even say her name. As if saying it would acknowledge the two were one and the same. Carolina wouldn't just give up. And neither would he.

**Denial**


	2. Stage 2

Stage 2

A consistent and measured failure to respond to physical and neural stimuli. In other words she wouldn't wake the fuck up. The doctors tried everything. And after that York tried everything else. He even took a crack at the Prince Charming method. Of course if it had worked the first thing Carolina probably would have done would be to rip off York's balls. If it had worked. But sadly, in this story, Sleeping Beauty didn't wake up.

York had watched her sleep before. It was a point of pride for him. Carolina didn't fraternize with just anyone. And as far as he knew, there was only one person she trusted enough to fall asleep next to.

There was an old couch in York's quarters that Carolina liked to curl up on. Of course there were restrictions. Carolina lived her life in rules and restrictions. Some were unspoken. Like she wouldn't really relax if he sat next to her. Instead she'd perch rigidly on the cushion, eyes forward and hands at the ready.

Some were simple, such as that he not be late for one of the regularly scheduled recreation sessions. She insisted on calling them that. Once when he was running late, he literally reached his door one second after her. She had given him a sad disappointed look and left.

Other rules were more complex such as the three page written agreement regarding just what he could and could not say to the others about their little meetings. (It largely reduced to; you can tell Wash we meet up. You can tell the others nothing.)

For a guy like York, who lived his life by few if any rules and planned his future no more than a day ahead, it was a frustrating and almost painful experience. And yet he found himself looking forward to, even welcoming the pain. When everything went perfectly and all the rules were followed. York would sit on that piece of shit stool and enjoy a sight unseen by any other eyes but his.

Carolina would sink into those soft cushions. She'd lay her head back on the pillows and all the tension and constant burning vigor would drain from her body. Sometimes York would swear he could hear her purring.

And then she would drift off. Safe. Warm. Content.

Minute by minute, moment by moment, she was slipping away. A flash of terrible insight cut through the fog of York's sleep deprived brain. Carolina wasn't going to wake up. And all he could York could do was sit there, and watch her die.

Depression


	3. Stage 3

Stage 3

Of course the Director sends some of his goons to bring him back. Waiting by a friend's bedside wasn't productive. And the Director didn't abide unproductive Freelancers. Six Project Freelancer guards would be threatening sight to anyone who had an eye for professional soldiers. York only had one good eye, and it saw only red. They were here for him. They weren't even trying to help her.

"The Director needs to see you immediately, agent."

York didn't move, so the soldier put a hand on his shoulder. Big mistake.

York broke the soldier's arm in three places, and was on his feet before the man had time to scream. York threw his helmet into the face of the next closest man and was rewarded with the crunch of breaking cartillage. The others were reacting, but slowly, too slowly to stop a freelancer, particularly one who excelled at CQB.

York drove his fist into another one's gut, then sent it upward to ruin his nose. He crushed a third's foot as he was sneaking up from behind and broke his ribs with an elbow. Broken arm and the last two men pulled stun batons and charged.

_Carolina wasn't going easy on him. She never did. A quick flurry of punches were deflected or absorbed. But that was just the opening round. Carolina never put it all out on the opening round. _

_"Why are you holding back?" She wasn't even out of breath!  
_

_"Uhh, what?"  
_

_"You almost threw a counter at the end of my last combination." Carolina sent a quick jab his way for punctuation.  
_

_"I think you're overestimating my skills a bit 'lina." That sets her off. She hates being called 'lina. Her green eyes flash with anger for a microsecond before she lowers her arms.  
_

_"Don't you ever try hard at anything York?" She asked him. "You can't spend your whole life taking it easy."_

"_You ever think maybe I just make it look easy?" He shot back with a grin. _

_Carolina sends a spinning kick his way and knocks him to the floor. _

"_One of these days you're going to go full out and I hope I'm there to see it." She says, peering down at him._

"_Trust me, if I ever go 'full out' I'm sure you'll be involved somehow."_

York steps in to Broken Arm's attack, locks the arm in an elbow and rips the weapon from his hand. Just for good measure he twists hard at the last moment, and now his name is Broken Arms. York has a weapon now. And a shield.

He throws the whimpering bastard into soldier number five. They topple in a mess of limbs. That leaves number six wide open and flat footed when York drives the baton into his gut. It's almost unnecessary to push the firing stud and release two thousand volts into his body. But he does it anyway. Arms and his friend get the same.

He drops the weapon once he's done. Six down in less than twenty seconds. A new record for him. Carolina would be proud.

**Anger**


	4. Stage 4

Stage 4

The men are lie in broken piles but the anger refuses to leave. In fact it builds. Coursing through York's veins like fire.

Ironically its Texas who calms him down. She asks him to report in. Offers to wait with Carolina, until he gets back. The absurdity almost makes him laugh. Texas and Carolina. Then it makes him panic. They think she's not coming back. They think she's done. But she's not. She just needs more time. A few more days and little 'lina will be back on her feet. She just needs a few more days.

_Carolina never asks for favors. Which makes it all the more hilarious when she needs one. She paces. And fidgets. She'll try to make small talk. She's terrible at small talk._

_She caught him in a hall. York knew at a glance. _

"_Nice…weather we're having, right York?"_

"_Uhh, sure Carolina. The internal atmo is fresher today. Maintenance must have changed the carbon filters recently?"_

"_What? Yes, no. I mean they did and it is. But I meant on the last mission. It was sunny. That was nice weather. That was what I meant. But the weather on the Mother of Invention has been good too."_

_York choked back his laughter and nodded sagely. But he didn't say a word. Carolina wrung her hands._

"_I think I might requisition a new table for my quarters."_

_It took everything in his power to keep his face expressionless, but York managed. A single smiles would send her away, furious. And that would be bad. Carolina's favors tended to be secretive and of a rather deadly nature. The last thing he wanted was for her to get offended and charge off alone, because if Carolina was asking for help, she needed it._

"_You need a favor."_

"_I need a favor."_

"_I'm in."_

"_You don't even know what I'm going to ask."_

"_That never bothered me before." York stepped close to her. "You know what I want in return."_

_Carolina grimaced. She hated this part. "Would you help me… James."_

"_Lead the way."_

More goons enter. They want to press the issue. Didn't they see what he did to their friends? Did someone forget to tell them he was still the second best freelancer? The irony of that stray thought made his heart race. He wouldn't let them take her. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance.

York heard a familiar little _fwip_. He looked down and saw the little green dark sticking out of his neck. Strange it looked like a-

**Bargaining**


	5. Stage 5

Stage 5

York woke up in his quarters with a sore … everything. But as the fog lifted from his brain, he saw things much more clearly. Three days without food or water or sleep had clouded his judgment. Carolina wasn't coming back. That signal from Delta had been like an egg beater mixing up his brains. He still wasn't sure he had fully recovered. And whatever he had felt, it was only half of what Carolina got.

_"I love you." It was the first thing he'd said to Carolina when he got to the infirmary. He'd wanted to say those words for years. Sitting at the bedside of the woman he loved, long buried emotions poured out of him._

_"I should have said that a long time ago, and too hell with your damn rules. I should have grabbed you and kissed you and just loved you." Tears rolled down his face. "What the hell did you think was going to happen? You kept pushing and pushing. You never let up. What was so bad about what you had? What was so bad about me?"_

York was pulled from his memory by Texas' bursting through his door with a swagger. She was, as always, in full armor.

They stare at each other for a long time.

"I'm sorry about your girl."

"Carolina wasn't anybody's girl."

What's behind that mask, he wondered for the thousandth time.

"What they did to her, what they did to all of us, it's wrong. The Director, Project Freelancer, the missions, the war, all of this is wrong."

"It's a little late for you to start act taking CT's side. You know, three weeks after you murdered her." It felt good to fling around accusations like a child. "You know a lot of people said a lot of things about you Tex, but I never figured you for a killer. Even after you took my eye."

"York you can sit in here and sulk and be pissed if you want or you can come with me and take down the people who caused all this."

Breaking rules, working with Tex, abandoning his loyalties, it's not what Carolina would have wanted. But Carolina is gone now.

"What'd you have in mind?"

Anger. **Again.**

* * *

A/N:

1) This was written well before season 10, and thus explains the discrepancy between my story and episodes 18-22.

2) I was a bit torn about posting it, since it really isn't polished, but I said I would get it out over a month ago, and I'm trying to be better with deadlines.


End file.
